The Fubret Affair
by owlcroft
Summary: Finding himself locked in yet another embrace with Napoleon, Illya comes to a sudden realization. Warning: Explicit un-slash!


Author's Note: This can be considered Alternate Universe or parody or simply a sort of reaction. I "do but jest, poison in jest -- no offense i' th' world."

THE FUBRET AFFAIR

by

Owlcroft

Illya suddenly lurched out of Napoleon's embrace, jerking a hand across his mouth, eyes wide. "Napoleon! Did you just _kiss _me? Euugh!" He drew a sleeve across his face, twice.

"Ah, well . . ." Solo hesitated, then took the handkerchief that tastefully matched his tie and fastidiously wiped his own lips. "It seems that I did. As we say in English, comrade, _yuck_!"

The blond Russian agent shook his head in disgust. "It's those fanfic writers again, isn't it? Is there no way in which we can stop them?"

Napoleon shrugged. "If you can think of one, please do let me know. This is getting tedious in the extreme. And one of these days, Mr. Waverly's going to be present when it happens and then the, ah, fur will really hit the fan."

Kuryakin slouched over to the nearest chair in his office and dropped into it. "Why in the world do they do this to us? It's not as if there weren't plenty of obviously heterosexual moments in the episodes. Your conduct alone, Napoleon, should be enough to convince everyone that we're not gay, or bi-sexual. I don't understand the basis for the continuing belief that we're partners in more than the one obvious, professional way." He ran a hand quickly through his blond thatch, then shook his head again. "Cagney and Lacey don't have this problem," he added bitterly.

Solo perched on the edge of the desk, studying his clasped hands. "Actually . . . it might be partly my fault," he admitted without looking up. "You remember the Terbuf Affair?"

Illya nodded, a suspicious look appearing on his Slavic features. "What did you do? Or say?"

"When I went to the bad guys who were holding you captive, I said something like 'You've got something that belongs to me and I want it back'." Napoleon spread his hands placatingly. "All I meant was that as the UNCLE representative in the area, as well as CEA, I wanted UNCLE's property back – meaning you."

"Oh, no," groaned Kuryakin. "And all the slash writers understood it as referring to a different relationship between us, that I was _your _property, is that it? Oh, Napoleon, that's absurd."

Solo shrugged. "Hey, I thought of it as just one of my usual insouciant throw-away lines."

Illya closed his eye and hid his face in his hands. "Surely, that's not _all_." One eye peeped out between his fingers. "Is it?"

"It's all I've been able to uncover." Napoleon held up a defensive palm. "And that's hardly my fault! I had no idea anybody would be studying each episode so closely after all these years, trying to find something – _anything_ – to fit with their world-view. How could I know this would happen?" Shoulders slumped, the dark-haired agent closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

The slender Russian sighed, then rose to pat his partner on the shoulder in consolation. At the last second, he reconsidered and backed off, hands held in the air. "I still fail to completely understand. After four seasons, all those novels, even the 'Return' movie . . . how is it possible for anyone to misunderstand our relationship? We're friends, _close _friends, _partners_, but that does not necessarily predicate a sexual relationship."

"No, it doesn't. At least, it shouldn't. But for some people, I guess there's no understanding the closeness we have without putting it in those terms. I don't know." Solo stood and paced to the door, then back to the corner of the desk. "The problem we have now is how to escape the affects of that particular area of fanfic. You have any ideas?"

"Me? I didn't even know what slash meant until you explained it." Kuryakin gazed into the distance, his eyes slightly unfocused. "Suppose we erect some sort of barrier – "

"Don't use words like 'erect', tovarisch!" said Napoleon with a grin.

Illya scowled at him. "Very amusing." He prowled the office briefly, then nodded in decision. "It should work. We can reconfigure the neutron flow in the communicator coils, blocking the fic particles and preventing the slash effects. The trick will be to balance the electromagnetic wave shield and the muon emitter but that should be possible." He rummaged in his desk for a screwdriver. "Give me your communicator."

Solo handed over the slim silver gadget and watched hopefully as his partner tinkered with it. "You really think this will work? It's getting a tad tiresome finding you constantly nestled against me."

"It had better work," was the grim reply. "Otherwise, you're going to have to explain to me what 'squee' means."

_finis_


End file.
